Classic Poem

Abbott previsioning the pestiferous swarm
Of royal locusts: “Expect now, Brother Paul,
A trifling inconvenience, that is all.
These levies and tributes keep you out of harm;
The thieves the King has slain cannot alarm
His people now, but you pay for this relief;
Strong governments must always eat much beef;
On n'a de beaux états qu'avec gendarmes.

“It doesn't matter that your King's a fraud,
A great pig's-bladder prickable as any,
A man whose nose runs probably more than many,
Whose beard is soused with gravy. He is the King.
He is the State, you are his littlest thing,
His man, else excommunicate and outlawed.”